


what you'd do to me tonight

by unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, Lingerie, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-04-21 04:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: Dimiclaude Week, day one: "Trust"Claude trusts Dimitri with what he feels is an embarrassing fetish. Dimitri indulges it because he loves him, and both of them have a very nice time.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 211





	what you'd do to me tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Dimiclaude week, with a new fic about this pairing from me every day! I've been working very hard on all of these 8 fics for the past two months, so I hope that you guys like them!

“I know you’re probably imagining something… erotic,” Dimitri starts, his voice in a low warning, “but let me assure you, this looks ridiculous. _I_ look ridiculous.”

“Nonsense,” Claude reassures him, his bodiless voice echoing from somewhere behind the partition, “the ridiculousness is part of the fun, don’t you think so?”

Dimitri does not think so.

He has half a mind to call the entire thing off and every time he catches a glimpse of himself in the small mirror on his side of the partition, he grows closer to the decision. His heart is racing in his chest, heat flooding his cheeks, and he looks… absurd. Comical. He drags a thumb along the hem of the lace stocking currently resting on over his thigh, frowning as it rolls downward.

“They won’t even stay up,” he complains, his voice just this short of whining.

Claude hums from somewhere in the room and Dimitri has to wonder if he’s being made fun of. If it were anyone else, he would think it was part of some long, elaborate joke, but Claude… well, if most people heard it from Claude, they’d probably think the same.

Claude is different to him, though. He knows when Claude is serious and he knows when it takes him great effort to bring something up. For all that Claude likes his jokes and his lilting little teases, he knows that this isn’t one of them.

At least… he hopes not.

“That’s what the garters are for,” Claude finally offers, “they’re the dangly bits off the belt. You clip them onto the top.” And then, a little fast, a little overeager - “do you need help? I can help you if you just- “

“No! No, it’s fine, I found them.”

Dimitri cuts him off quickly before Claude can pull back the partition, finding the long clippy piece of fabric in question. One of them was tucked under the hem of his underwear, he discovers, and… well, he’d been wondering what that was for.

He attaches them to the hem, as Claude instructed and lets out a sigh of defeat when he realizes that they work exactly as intended. Of course someone would have invented something for a thing as foolish as this.

Another deep breath and Dimitri looks in the mirror one last time.

The corset had no chance of ever fitting and after struggling with it for a moment, it had been discarded in lieu of going completely topless. And then - lower, to the almost sheer belt which hung tightly around his hips and provided the aforementioned garters.

Then… the panties that Claude had procured for him after he’d agreed to this fantasy, black and laced and _tight_ in uncomfortable places, with nowhere to remotely hide his bulging length.

Below those, the garters from the belt are now correctly attached to the black stockings which end just above his mid-thigh. Dimitri looks at himself for a moment, tries to shift his legs a little to make it more enticing, as if looking at a woman, but the proper curves just aren’t there: his shoulders are too wide, his thighs, too angular. Whatever Claude is dreaming of, Dimitri thinks, he’s going to disappoint.

“Hey,” comes Claude’s voice from the other side of the partition - close now, like he’s almost leaning up against it, his tone softer, more personable. “You can always back out of this, you know.”

Dimitri turns his head sharply, his expression furrowing into a frown, though Claude can’t see him.

“No,” he tells him, his voice firm, not letting out the insecurity he feels. Dimitri steps forward so he’s closer, on the other side to where he knows Claude is less than a foot away, leaning against the fragile wood of the partition. “You trusted me with this. I’m not going to disappoint you.”

“My love, you could never disappoint me,” Claude responds, but Dimitri can hear the soft intake of breath in his voice, the understanding that he’s being _trusted_, that Dimitri knows he’s genuine and that he will play to Claude’s desires, as Claude so often plays to his own.

(Not that it’s a hardship for either of them: Claude had arched an eyebrow the first time Dimitri brought restraints in the bedroom, teased him, _you miss being my prisoner that much?,_ and then nearly screamed in pleasure when Dimitri captured _him_ instead.)

It’s with the encouragement there that Dimitri finally decides, _enough of this_, and reaches to pull back the slatted wood of the partition, tossing it aside like the flimsy thing that it is.

He’s met with Claude’s large eyes, Claude stumbling backward, clearly not expecting it to be moved so quickly, and Claude regaining his senses and staring.

And staring.

Dimitri thinks that maybe he should try to tilt his legs a little, shift his hips, be more coquettish, but it’s not him. He simply crosses his arms across his chest, stockinged feet flat on the floor and watches Claude gape.

For once in his life, Claude seems speechless as he just _looks_, takes another step back so he can see all of him, and looks again - and Dimitri doesn’t miss how his eyes slide along the admittedly-bulky curve of his thigh, or the way that the garter belt seems to accentuate his narrow waist in a sharp contrast to his broad shoulders.

“...you really did this for me,” Claude breathes, as if he’s just now remembered how to speak, and the sight of him there, awestruck and amazed gives Dimitri a unique form of strength.

He feels… attractive like this. He feels the power he has over Claude, not like when he’d tied his arms to the bedposts, but a new kind of power, the kind that he now holds over Claude’s rapt _attention_.

Dimitri moves then, uncrossing his arms and striding toward him. When Claude lifts his chin to _finally_ look Dimitri in the face once he’s close enough, Dimitri moves even closer, crowds him without touching so that Claude has no choice but to step back, shrinking backward and backward until he hits the bed and stumbles back to sit on it.

There’s no smile on Dimitri’s face, nothing so fluttering and innocent. Instead, he stares Claude down while he lifts a leg, praying somewhere in the back of his mind that everything stays where it’s supposed to while he presses his foot against the edge of the bed, inches from Claude’s hips.

Dimitri leans in, bending at the knee while balancing carefully on the other foot. Claude’s gaze skirts around the inside of his thigh, the crease where the panties bite into his skin, the edge of the stocking, black sheer fabric giving way to pale skin.

Claude is hard already.

“You want to touch?” Dimitri asks and Claude nods his head, clearly not trusting himself to speak. His fingers jerk upward on impulse, but he stills himself and buries his hands in his lap until he’s given permission. Dimitri smirks, the expression unkind but he can see now how Claude likes that sort of thing.

“Ask me.”

Claude looks up at him again, meeting his eye with an expression that would almost be considered a pout, but the smirk stays on Dimitri’s lips, unyielding and fiercely pleased at the way this has developed.

Claude prides himself on his composure; Dimitri prides himself on breaking it.

“Can I…” Claude starts, and then pauses to clear the rasp out of his throat, trying to remain calm and assertive, trying to keep at least some sort of control over himself when Dimitri is acting like _this_. “...can I touch your - your stockings?”

“_Just_ my stockings?” Dimitri teases in turn, loving the flush that it brings to Claude’s tanned cheeks. He moves again, lowering his foot to the floor and nudging Claude back to sit further on the bed so he can heft up on his knees on either side of Claude’s legs.

Dimitri holds himself up there, not letting himself sink back into Claude’s lap, standing on his knees on either side of him and looking down at Claude from his vantage point.

Claude whimpers.

“...and the rest of you,” Claude says, looking at him and - well, it’s impossible to _not_ see the strain against the too-tight fabric, the girth of Dimitri’s cock. Claude takes a breath through his nose and looks up, wresting control back over himself. “Your thighs. Your _cock_. I want it.”

That in turn sends a shiver down Dimitri’s spine and he nods slowly, granting permission.

“Then you may.”

In his haste to get his hands on him, Claude snaps off one of the garters, but neither of them care. Claude’s fingers trail up Dimitri’s thighs and he lets out a shaky breath just to touch, just to _feel_ the hardened muscle underneath the flimsy nylon, just to trace up the path of his garter to the darkened fabric that's beginning to dampen under Dimitri’s own need.

“You know,” Claude starts, his voice still soft, in awe, “I thought about you in this so much, but I never thought about what I’d do to you once you were actually wearing it.”

Dimitri chuckles out a laugh, one that turns into a startled gasp as Claude’s hands slide around his thighs and knead at his ass, the muscle there firm with the strain of sitting in this position. Claude’s fingers play with the lacy hem of the panties and Dimitri shuffles forward, crowding up against him again and tilting his chin up into a long and intense kiss.

Claude makes a soft sound at the kiss and eventually leans back under the pressure Dimitri is putting on him. In turn, Dimitri eases him down until his shoulders are on the mattress and kisses him again, slides his lips along Claude’s jaw, against his throat, and _bites_.

“Get me out of this,” Claude asks in a whispered rush, struggling with the hem of his shirt. Dimitri obliges, crawling further up the bed to press his knee against Claude’s clothed-crotch while he does so and Claude finds himself sufficiently distracted with trying to roll his hips against Dimitri’s weight while Dimitri tugs at the fabric.

He slides the collar over Claude’s head, rumpling his hair something awful, but leaves the shirt before it can be pulled off of Claude’s arms, restraining them in some slight way, stretched above his head.

Claude doesn’t care - he’s too busy looking downward, seeing Dimitri’s stocking-covered thigh pressed high against his hard cock, trying to roll his hips along with the friction of it, his mouth dry.

“How ready are you?” Dimitri asks slyly, reaching his hand beneath the hem of Claude’s pants. Claude seems breathless with it already, and when he touches his cock for the first time, he can hear the soft sounds his lover makes beneath him. Claude still makes no effort to get his arms free from his shirt, instead merely wiggles his hips at the twin pleasures of Dimitri’s hand and the muscle of his thigh, still pressed tightly upward against his balls.

Once Claude can finally meet his eyes again, he flutters his lashes, spreading his thighs just a little around Dimitri’s own legs.

“You want to fuck me?” he asks, his voice low and sultry because he already knows the answer to that question and he knows _exactly_ how Dimitri will react.

Dimitri flushes at Claude just _saying_ it so openly, but it spurs him to action, slipping the hand currently down Claude’s pants around to his backside, his fingers pressing lower, inquisitive, and going still when he feels the telltale slickness between his cheeks. Just the sensation of it makes him groan, and he rocks his thigh forward again as a reward while he leans down to press another kiss against Claude’s lips.

“You _prepared_.” It’s an accusation, and Claude simply smiles his mocking smile back up toward him.

“A master tactician prepares for everything, Mitya.”

Dimitri scoffs at him and backs up on the bed, just enough to get both of his hands on the hem of Claude’s pants, gripping at his underwear as well and rucking it all down at once, forcing Claude’s thighs together and lifting his legs between them so that he can strip him in one smooth stroke.

“Was there,” Dimitri starts, letting Claude’s legs fall back to either side of him and then dragging his knee back up again to press the nylon of the stockings flush against Claude’s cock and into the dark space between his legs, “-was there even a doubt in your mind?”

Claude groans, his head tilted downward, unable to tear his eyes away from that point of connection, particularly while Dimitri rubs warmly against him, offering him little choice but to fuck down against his thigh.

“What,” he asks breathlessly, “that I’d reveal a very private thing to you and you’d laugh in my face and refuse to try it?”

And then Claude finally squirms his arms out of his shirt, discarding it to the side in favor of reaching up for Dimitri’s face, pulling him back down against him for a long and biting kiss. His leg lifts to wrap around Dimitri’s waist, sliding against the garter belt and accidentally snapping another of the delicate clips off in his desire for friction.

He smiles again when Dimitri pulls back, but this time it’s different - this time it’s the smile of someone looking up to their lover with trust and adoration, and it feels for a crippling moment, as if Claude can see right through him, right into his heart and observe how wildly Dimitri loves him.

“Not a chance.”

Dimitri kisses him again, reaching a hand underneath Claude’s thigh and lifting his leg up further, stretching Claude the way he knows that only Claude can move and bending him almost double, just to pull back and look at him, all of him: the expanse of his chest, the indentations of his ribs and the soft dusky brown of his nipples that Dimitri loves to get his mouth on.

There’s more, of course, the hardness of his cock (and Dimitri also loves to get his mouth on _that_), the curve of his balls, slick-shine of lubricant below that, leading to his tender hole. Dimitri just looks at him for a moment, marveling, and the hunger must be evident in his face because Claude squirms, still watching him.

“Keep it on,” he says, his gaze still on the garter belt, the panties, “while you fuck me.”

Dimitri nods and reaches down to tug his underwear down, just pushing the front hem low enough to _finally_ free his trapped cock, sighing in relief. Claude eyes it while Dimitri strokes himself and tries not to feel ridiculous - though it’s fairly easy, with the way Claude is looking at him like he wants to devour him whole.

He strokes over his cock, eyeing down at Claude again and feels breathless, shaken with how badly he wants him. Claude is a dream come true, every fantasy come to life - and he seems to feel the same about Dimitri, because he reaches out and hooks two fingers in the garter belt and urges him forward, impatient.

Dimitri has to comply. He slips his hand down to Claude’s ass, not exactly gentle while he presses a finger inside and finds Claude soft and open for him, expertly prepared by Claude’s own devilish fingers not even an hour beforehand.

All that’s left then is the act - and Dimiri sinks lower, smearing his own precome down his cock in a mild effort to get it slick as well, so that he can finally move where Claude is pulling him, line himself up and press inward.

“Goddess,” he breathes at the way Claude just _opens_ for him, his leg still comically bent in the air, his body soft and inviting and slick-hot just like it always is. Dimitri could bury himself into Claude and be content for the rest of his days, at home nestled into Claude’s body without another care in the world.

“I’m gonna - need you to move,” Claude grits out, knocking Dimitri back into awareness, and he looks down to find that he’s only partway in, that he’s been teasing Claude almost without even realizing it. 

Dimitri murmurs a hint of an apology and sinks his way in deeper, gasping at the sensation of Claude continuing to envelop him, Claude looking up at him with bright green eyes and messy hair and that grin, always with that trademark smile - 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Dimitri breathes and Claude bursts out a soft laugh, as if the very notion if him being _too much_ is silly.

It isn’t. Dimitri has no misplaced masculine pride about his own size, but he knows that he’s _big_, knows that when he goes too fast, Claude’s pleasure grows a little more tenuous, and he doesn’t want to risk anything like that happening now.

Claude seems to have prepared himself well though, because he just _takes_ it and gasps in pleasure when Dimitri finally bottoms out against him.

He starts to move because he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t, and the simple act of shifting his hips, rocking into Claude at first as he slowly builds momentum - it’s the best thing in the world. Dimitri groans, reaches down to tug his underwear down a bit lower, as the hem was starting to bite into an uncomfortable pace, and keeps moving, stopping only when Claude’s hand smacks on his shoulder.

“Wait - fuck, wait, I want…”

But Claude doesn’t have to say it out loud, no matter how tempted Dimitri is to tease him into it. Instead, he shoves at Dimitri until he slips out and Claude rolls to his stomach, shifting up on his knees and reaching his hand behind him to beckon Dimitri closer.

“Like this,” he all but _purrs_, and Dimitri feels helpless do him, drawn like a moth to the flame against Claude’s warm body, the enticing curve of his ass and the place where he lays open, waiting for Dimitri to fill him again.

He does, walking forward on his knees and pressing a hand to Claude’s hips, where his waist starts to curve inward, and Dimitri sinks back into him as easily as breathing, punching out a low moan from the man below him.

Claude sinks down to his chest, his arms giving out from under him as Dimitri works harder, starts to thrust in more earnest, each snap of his hips eliciting a soft gasp from the man below him. Claude’s hands reach back behind him, his spine curving, until his fingers catch at the front of Dimitri’s legs, his nails digging into the nylon of his stockings and _twisting_ until he’s got a firm grip of it.

“In,” he whimpers, burying his face into the mattress so it’s hard to hear what he’s actually saying, muffled by fabric - thankfully, Dimitri is an expert at deciphering Claude’s broken pleas. “Just stay - fuck, _yes_.”

Dimitri thinks he understands and on his next thrust, he doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rocks against him, leaning over the curve of Claude’s spine to press a warm kiss to the back of his neck while Claude fists his hands in his stockings, ripping them from the last of the garters and tearing at the hems while Dimitri works himself in deeper.

And _deeper_.

Claude lets out a guttural sound while Dimitri wraps an arm around his shoulder, over his throat and just buries himself inside of his lover, marveling in the way Claude flexes and trembles around him. With his other hand, he reaches down to touch him and finds Claude’s cock dripping, so close like this already.

"You're ripping my stockings," Dimitri murmurs in his ear, low and seductive and Claude whines, tugging harder, pulling Dimitri against him with the force of it.

"Dimitri-" he gasps when he can breathe, his back arching, turning his face in search of a kiss. Dimitri obliges, his fingers tightening around Claude's cock.

"I've got you," it’s soft, reassuring, and Dimitri strokes him in earnest, mouthing at his throat, “I’ve got you.”

Claude cries out as he comes, slicking Dimitri’s fingers with his spend and tightening beautifully around Dimitri’s cock, like a vice. Dimitri groans and manages a few more halfhearted thrusts before he follows suit, sinking his teeth into Claude’s shoulder as he empties himself inside of him in long, pleasurable bursts.

They breathe there for a few moments afterward and Claude slowly untangles his fingers from the ripped fabric, letting his arms fall against the mattress while Dimitri gingerly pulls out of him with a little wince on both their parts.

It’s a mess. He looks over Claude’s back, down to the slick part of him, the limpness of his fingers beside him and finally flops up into the pillows. After a moment or two of composing himself, Claude does the same, sore and tired as he crawls his way up the bed and to where he can pillow his head on Dimitri’s chest.

They’ll need to clean up in a moment. They’ll need to get up and maybe change out the blanket, grab a towel, find something to sleep in - but for now, the two of them bask in the afterglow of their encounter, with Dimitri wrapping an arm warmly around Claude’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” Claude finally tells him, weary and fucked out, “for humoring me.”

Dimitri yawns, looking blearily down toward the fuzzy top of Claude’s head and leans down to press a kiss against his hairline.

“Well. I won’t be able to do it again until we make a shopping trip.” It’s pointed, as Dimitri idly lifts a leg to show the mess that they’d made of the poor stockings. The knees are ripped from how Dimitri had been sitting on them, the hems torn and stretched out beyond recognition, with various runs crisscrossing down past his calves from where the garters had been ripped away.

The fabric is loose now, no chance of it ever staying on Dimitri’s thigh again with his right sock already slipping down past his knee.

Claude has the decency to flush when he remembers just how they’d gotten that way and buries his face in Dimitri’s chest.

“Besides...” Dimitri continues, rubbing his thumb in small circles along Claude’s shoulder, “I’d hardly call it humoring when I enjoyed it just as much as you did.”

And he did. He hadn’t expected to, but he really did - not really at the clothing itself, but from the way Claude _looked_ at him, as if enraptured by some kind of spell, and Dimitri had never felt more desired than when Claude was looking at him like that.

So it was worth it. It was worth the slight discomfort and insecurity a hundred times over, and as he kisses Claude’s forehead again and finally hefts himself up to strip the ruined underthings off and clean them both up, Dimitri is already thinking about ways he can acquire another pair.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to actually look up how garter belts work because I've never worn one, so there's that. Dimitri's wearing something pretty simple, probably like [this](https://www.bloomingdales.com/shop/product/hanky-panky-signature-lace-garter-belt-low-rise-thong?ID=778964)!
> 
> If you wanna gush about this pairing with me, please hit me up on twitter, [@unraelated](https://twitter.com/unraelated)


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